


Call It What It Is

by meangreenlimabean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort, Episode: s12e02 Mamma Mia, Gen, Healing, Hurt Sam Winchester, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 07:12:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8392162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meangreenlimabean/pseuds/meangreenlimabean
Summary: A missing scene from 12.02 “Mamma Mia” after Sam is rescued. Dean is just happy to have his brother back, but Cas understands what Sam can't say.





	

**Author's Note:**

> That episode obviously skipped something important, and I know I'm not the only one who is frustrated and wondering what we missed. Here is my take on what happened during that gap.
> 
> Thank you JiniZ for the beta read!

Sam doesn’t realize he is falling until he feels their hands on him. Too many hands touching him, everything a blur of sound and motion that sends him reeling back again in confusion. It’s all too much. He makes a fist and swings out in fear, and the hands let him go.

The cold seeps into his limbs as he sits on the floor, hands over his throbbing head. He picks out Dean’s voice, the words indistinguishable but full of concern, and focuses hard on that. Gradually, the jumble of noise flattens as Dean’s soothing murmur becomes clear. “I’m right here, okay Sammy? You’re safe now little brother. It’s alright.”

Sam nods, keeping his eyes tightly shut.

A new voice breaks in, unfamiliar, barely above a whisper. “My God, what did she do to him?”

_ Mom _ , his brain reminds him, but that can’t be right. Just another hallucination. Mom is still dead, stupid. He forces his eyes open to look for his brother. If he can just look at Dean, the fake stuff will be easier to ignore. Or not. His mother’s face comes into focus in front of him. She is kneeled on the cold, damp floor, one hand cautiously reaching toward him. He jerks away.

The hurt on her face at his rejection seems real enough.

“She’s real, Sam,” Dean tells him. “Mom’s really here.”

He studies her. She is just as beautiful as he remembers. Mary holds very still, keeping a safe distance. Her emotions show plainly on her face as she looks him over: worry, anger, sadness, resolve. After a long, tense moment, she moves towards him again.

Sam tries not to, but he flinches. Mary stands up and moves away. Ashamed, Sam drops his gaze to the floor, shaking his head. Concerned voices swirl above his head again but he wastes no effort to pick out words. They probably think he still doesn’t believe it, and he’s not ready to tell them otherwise.

Dean crouches down, bringing himself to Sam’s eye level. “I’m gonna take mom to the car, okay Sammy?” He starts to reach out, to pat Sam on the arm, but stops himself. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh- Cas is here. Would’ja let him heal you, at least?”

Sam gives a small nod. Then he looks up and meets Dean’s eyes. “I said things,” he begins, then the words get stuck in his throat. He makes a sour face, feeling like he might vomit.

“Hey man,” Dean says gently, moving a little closer. “Whatever happened, I don’t give a damn right now. We’ll manage. I’m just happy to have you back safe and sound.” He looks so certain. “Let’s get you fixed up and then we’ll head home, alright?” With that, he stands, says something low to Cas, then leads Mary out.

Sam lets his chin drop to his chest. He knows his pain is about to disappear, but a part of him isn’t ready. Castiel says nothing, just stands by quietly, patiently.

After a few uncomfortable minutes, Sam takes a deep breath. “She tricked me,” he explains, then stops, feeling ridiculous. He squeezes his eyes shut and sinks a little further onto the cold floor. He hears a soft shuffling, then all is silent again for a long moment.

“Sam-” The voice comes from much nearer than Sam expected, and he startles, his eyes flying open. Cas is seated cross-legged on the floor, facing him. He gives Sam a second to compose himself, then continues. “Like Dean said, any information you may have divulged to those people is of zero significance. We are simply relieved to have you back.”

Sam lets out a shaky breath. This is one of those rare times he is grateful for Cas being so straightforward. He looks up to see the angel staring at his bandaged foot.

Cas gestures toward it. “May I?”

Sam tenses up. “Do you have to…” He feels silly for having to ask. “Can you heal without… touching?”

Blue eyes study him, but there is no judgement. “Before the fall, yes I could. Easily. But now?” His gaze moves over Sam’s slumped form, his expression solemn. “I suppose it can’t hurt to try.”  He stretches his hand out toward Sam’s left knee, but waits for Sam to nod in permission.

The familiar cool burn of grace pools over Sam’s injured thigh. In the soft glow from under Cas’s hand, Sam can feel each fiber of muscle and skin threading back together and mending. He’s been healed dozens of times, many of those by Cas, but this was slower than he was used to. As promised, Cas keeps his fingers hovering just over Sam’s leg without making contact.

Once Cas pulls away, Sam looks down at his leg to find it appears exactly the same. Despite his body being completely healed from the bullet wound, like it never happened, his ripped jeans and the bandage beneath are still coated with dried blood. Cas scowls. “Hmph.” He seems unhappy with his results.

Sam couldn’t care less. It wasn’t like he would want to wear these clothes ever again.

Next, Cas raises his hand to Sam’s face, healing the slice across his cheekbone, then a smaller one on his forehead. Then a deeper gash on his chest. Each time, the angel keeps from touching Sam’s skin, pushing his grace into the wound, his palm not an inch away. They continue until every cut is repaired and Cas sits back on his heels. Sam doesn’t budge.

Cas studies him in silence for a while. He narrows his eyes in frustration. Eventually, he leans in a little closer, and takes a slow, purposeful inhale through his nose. Then he sits back again, growing very still. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low rumble, almost too quiet for Sam to make out. “She tricked you.”

Sam recognizes his own words from earlier. He tries to make himself smaller, his shoulders curling inward like he wants to disappear.

Cas speaks again. “Is that why you didn’t want your mother to touch you?”

Sam nods, not looking up from the floor.

“Understandable.”

Another long silence passes before Sam replies. “I can’t believe I fell for it. Stupid.”

“I am afraid I don’t follow.”

Sam looks up, giving Cas an incredulous frown. “She got me to trust her. After everything-”

Cas just stares, unflinching, his forehead wrinkled in concentration.

“There was a spell, it made me think we were… together.”

“Sexually,” Cas clarifies. Sam has to look away. “Pain didn’t break you, so instead she tried pleasure.”

Sam winces at his words. “God, Cas-”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Sam.”

“Like hell it isn’t.” His body is trembling, a combination of anger, exhaustion, and the cold. He lets out an angry sigh. “And it worked. Wasn’t even real, but I fell for it. Such an idiot.”

“Stop,” Cas commands, making Sam flinch and grow quiet. “You were held and tortured for days. I’ve never met anyone, human or otherwise, who has withstood what you have been put through.”

Sam wants to take the compliment, but too much is still nagging at him. When he finally answers, his voice is very small. “It’s not… that’s...”

Cas offers up an explanation, his voice steady. “You enjoyed it.”

Sam doesn’t move, but his eyes squeeze shut, and his mouth curls in disgust. The angel nods in understanding.

“When I was briefly human,” Cas begins, “the physical needs were overwhelming. Hunger, exhaustion, it was impossible to get used to. I remember being starving and cold, until a woman named April took me in. She fed me, gave me a place to sleep, she made me feel safe. We had sexual intercourse. Multiple times, in fact.”

“Cas?” Sam’s brows are pinched in confusion.

“While I believed her to be simply a kind human being, I enjoyed our physical interactions. But that wasn’t the truth. It wasn’t real.”

Sam lets out his breath. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s not really the same.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Cas sticks out his chin stubbornly. “She misrepresented herself to gain my trust. Her actions weren’t out of kindness. It was a trap, which I leapt right into. Sam, do you believe I’d let down my guard had I known everything?”

“No!” Sam felt hot tears welling up in his eyes, and he blinked fast. Cas was hitting too close to the mark. “But she… it was...” Sam circled the idea a few times, trying to explain it away, but words failed him.

“If your mind had not been impaired by a spell, would you have agreed to participate? Could you even fully comprehend what was being done to you?”

“But-” he was shaking his head, desperately making excuses to himself throughout all of Cas’s speech. “It was all in my head,” he finally said, without much conviction.

Cas didn’t answer, but his eyes flicked down, just a fraction. Sam wasn’t even sure if he meant to do it, but it got the point across.

He had hoped that Cas’s super senses hadn’t caught that detail, but no such luck. Sam’s face and neck flushed red. He squirmed, trying not to think about the damp, sticky patch in his jeans. He couldn’t lie to himself, that much had been real enough. Shame burned hot in his stomach as he remembered her smug, awful grin as he woke from the spell.

“You could try placing the blame on the person who tortured you,” Cas said, his voice almost gentle.

This time, Sam didn’t argue.

After a while, Cas stood. “Sam, let us get you to the bunker. You will feel much better after a shower and a change of clothes.” He offered his hand.

Sam reached out, hesitated, then took Cas’s hand and allowed himself to be hauled up off the floor. He didn’t pull away even once he was on his feet.

“That’s a start,” Cas said gently. He gave what was probably meant to be an encouraging smile.

The wood by the stairs creaked, and they both looked to see Dean enter the open doorway. “You guys planning to join us anytime soon?” He nodded at Sam. “That’s more like it,” he waved a hand indicating Sam’s lack of injuries. “Good as new.”

Sam forced a smile until his brother was gone. Then he turned from Cas and shuffled toward the steps. Despite being fully healed he moved carefully, as if not to aggravate his wounds.

Cas watched him go. “You are convinced he wouldn’t understand.”

“I know he wouldn’t.”

“He might surprise you.”

Sam didn’t turn back, and didn’t answer.

 


End file.
